


Bad Advice

by Anonymous



Category: Motorcity
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike teaches a very nervous Chuck how to make out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Advice

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt](http://motorkink.dreamwidth.org/272.html?thread=861968#cmt861968), except I took it and ran sixteen miles in the opposite direction.

Mutt isn't the most ideal spot for cuddling, but it serves Chuck well. It gives him an excuse to curl up against Mike's chest and have gentle, chaste kisses planted on the top of his head while he dozes off to the purr of Mutt's motor. For once they're not racing at velocities unfit for human exposure, or outrunning Kane's dangerous bots and goons who want them dead merely for existing. He and Mike can enjoy each other's close company; warm embraces and quiet conversation. It's nearly perfect.  
  
Nearly.  
  
For the past few weeks, Chuck can tell his boyfriend wants more. Good morning and good night kisses that were once small and sweet are now longer, heavier, lingering. He isn't sure what to make of it, except that Mike wants a  _real_  kiss.   
  
Now don't get him wrong, Chuck is more than okay with that idea. It's just the act of, well, making out that frightens him, being the total novice in the pashing department that he is. Hacking into Detroit Deluxe's mainframe is no sweat off his back, but knowing where to put his tongue in somebody's mouth or how to keep his teeth from smashing against his partner's is a terrifyingly foreign concept to Chuck, and not one he wants to fumble with while snogging his Mikey for the first time. The anxiety of it all made his past few close encounters with Mike a little less than perfect.   
  
Chuck can't stop himself from shifting uncomfortably while he turns these ideas over in his head and Mike, being Mike, hones in on it. “What's up, Chuckles?”  
  
There's no chill way to say, “Dude, I need you to teach me how to make out. With tongues and everything!” after all, and if there is, Chuck wouldn't know it if it walked up and nipped him on the bum. He sits up on Mike's lap and opens his mouth to boldly ask his friend to show him the ropes, convincing himself that everybody has to start somewhere and this is as good a time as ever to learn. What comes out is nothing less than a strangled, insecure whimper. So he tries again, and this time he manages to screech out the words, “WILLYOUTEACHMEHOWTOMAKEOUTMIKEYPLEASE.”  
  
Mike furrows his brows, glancing out the window and over at the empty passenger's seat and at his hands and anywhere that isn't Chuck's rapidly reddening face. Chuck hopes against hope that if anything, Mike at least understood the jumble of words he'd forced out so quickly—he doesn't know if he has the gall to ask again.  
  
But it's all right, everything is a-okay, because Mike meets his panicked stare, smiles, and says, “Of course I'll teach you.”  
  
Thank  _goodness_. Chuck tries to keep his relief to himself, but it shows in his shoulders, muscles finally allowing themselves to relax back to their familiar slouch. “Where do we start?”  
  
“Um... well, first we... you know. We kiss.” Mike put his hands on either side of Chuck's face and presses their lips squarely together. He can just barely feel his boyfriend's hands shaking above his own anxiety and excitement, and he wants to question where Mike's standard self-assuredness has wandered off to but he can't find the words. Their mouths are tense, their lips are straight, even lines and something about it feels the tiniest bit off, but Chuck closes his eyes, knowing that he'll enjoy it eventually.  
  
Mike (naturally) is the first to make gallant attempt of bringing his tongue into the picture, licking at Chuck's bottom lip before tapping it against his teeth to politely ask for entrance. He allows it and their stick-stiff floundering smooch morphs into an open-mouth graceless mess of tongues. Warm and wet and loud, it reminds Chuck of one of Jacob's more unpleasant meal experiments—the muscle is alien and thick against his own. He's not sure where he should put his either, or where his teeth should go, and before he knows it he pinches the sides of Mike's tongue and feels his partner's mouth twist into a wince. Chuck panics as he senses a familiar blush erupting from the base of his neck to his freckled cheeks. He silently hopes his whimper is not read as a pleased one.  
  
What a disaster! Even though it's Mike he's swapping saliva with, he still feels a bit disappointed that  _this_  is it, this is what he had been holding out for, this is what he had been making him self sick with anxiety over for weeks. Mutt's steering wheel is beginning to dig into his back, forcing him to awkwardly crane his long body forward so he doesn't hit the horn and ruin whatever moment they have left. It's funny and a bit disconcerting that Chuck can tell his boyfriend is the most unsure he's ever been in recent memory. His brash nature has been replaced by a bumbling fool, clumsily running his hand up and down Chuck's back to soothe him, but doing so in a way that is threatening to give the both of them fabric burn. Mike's free hand is all over the place—tugging gently at Chuck's hair, clutching his cheek, snaking up his thigh, but no matter where it is, it isn't sure where it really wants to be.  
  
Chuck has had enough of humiliating himself. “Dude,” he says, breaking their sloppy kiss and pulling away, “I don't think we're doing this right.”  
  
“Yeah, me neither.”  
  
Oh no. It's him, isn't it? It's all Chuck's fault this has gone so wrong. He's a cruddy kisser, the most loathsome smoocher in all of Motorcity—no, on the entire planet! “I'm sorry, Mikey!” he cries. “I didn't know what to do! This is my first time, I...I—”  
  
“Calm down, Chuck!” Mike says, placing his hands on Chuck's shoulders to steady him. “This is my first time too. I'm really, really nervous and I honestly have no idea what the heck I'm doing.”  
  
“Yeah, but... wait, what?”  
  
“And those kissing tips Texas gave me clearly weren't working,” Mike continues, taking Chuck's hands in his own. “I'm sorry. I promise it'll be better next time.”  
  
But Chuck can't hold back his laughter, no matter how sweet Mike is being, or how relieved he is to know that he wasn't the only one dropping the ball during their make out session. “You took kissing advice from  _Texas_?”   
  
“Yeah. Not one of my better ideas.”  
  
Still grinning, Chuck wraps Mike up in a tight hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. “Practice makes perfect. We'll get it right soon enough.”  
  
“I know we will,” Mike says, returning the hug with as much fervour.  
  
“And Mikey?”   
  
“Hm?”  
  
Chuck lifts his head up to plant a kiss on Mike's nose. “No more taking advice from Texas.”


End file.
